![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
My Own Cat Is Probably Disgusted With Me
Oct. 12th, 2012 08:48 pmIn a surprising turn of events, I now belong to the neighbor's cat.
Or at least my left shoe does. The way she was grinding her face against it, it must be the olfactory equivalent of a MySpace page from the early 2000's by now.
Neighbor lady, you see, had a bit of a disaster and has been in the hospital for some weeks. While she's recovering, there's the matter of her 15-year-old cross-eyed* rescue cat who, because of a declawing back before neighbor lady got to her, is a strictly Indoor Cat. SOMEBODY'S got to feed the fuzzball and muck out the litterbox, and it might as well be me.
And, as the weeks go on and we adapt the Hierarchy of Needs to cat standards, it turns out that SOMEBODY has also got to keep the cat from going out of her damn mind, and as I am the Food Human, that job also seems to have fallen to me. In just a few weeks she has gone from spending my short visits hiding under a blanket LIKE A NINJA to waiting for me at the door. A lot of days I'm her only visitor. And dang, that must be boring and lonely as shit.
So now that she's used to me, I've started playing with her--turns out my sling makes a STELLAR cat toy, and anyway I needed a new one.** And then we have petting time, and most recently I've started sitting on the couch reading while she sits in my lap and purrs like a goddamn bulldozer.
I think I'll be a bit sorry when the neighbor lady comes back. I'm starting to enjoy hanging out with that cat. And if my left shoe is anything to go by, the feeling is mutual.
*People always automatically ask "Is she Siamese?" when I say that. The answer is she is part-Siamese--the cross-eyed part. But I have yet to see a full Siamese with a luxurious grey, blue, and fawn mackerel coat.
**It's interesting and a little sad to watch her whap and grab at it without her claws--you can tell her nervous system is still behaving like they're there, and trying to grip things with them.
Or at least my left shoe does. The way she was grinding her face against it, it must be the olfactory equivalent of a MySpace page from the early 2000's by now.
Neighbor lady, you see, had a bit of a disaster and has been in the hospital for some weeks. While she's recovering, there's the matter of her 15-year-old cross-eyed* rescue cat who, because of a declawing back before neighbor lady got to her, is a strictly Indoor Cat. SOMEBODY'S got to feed the fuzzball and muck out the litterbox, and it might as well be me.
And, as the weeks go on and we adapt the Hierarchy of Needs to cat standards, it turns out that SOMEBODY has also got to keep the cat from going out of her damn mind, and as I am the Food Human, that job also seems to have fallen to me. In just a few weeks she has gone from spending my short visits hiding under a blanket LIKE A NINJA to waiting for me at the door. A lot of days I'm her only visitor. And dang, that must be boring and lonely as shit.
So now that she's used to me, I've started playing with her--turns out my sling makes a STELLAR cat toy, and anyway I needed a new one.** And then we have petting time, and most recently I've started sitting on the couch reading while she sits in my lap and purrs like a goddamn bulldozer.
I think I'll be a bit sorry when the neighbor lady comes back. I'm starting to enjoy hanging out with that cat. And if my left shoe is anything to go by, the feeling is mutual.
*People always automatically ask "Is she Siamese?" when I say that. The answer is she is part-Siamese--the cross-eyed part. But I have yet to see a full Siamese with a luxurious grey, blue, and fawn mackerel coat.
**It's interesting and a little sad to watch her whap and grab at it without her claws--you can tell her nervous system is still behaving like they're there, and trying to grip things with them.
